


King of Ash

by adyinglight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adyinglight/pseuds/adyinglight
Summary: (AU) Three years ago, God left Earth and Lucifer enslaved humanity with the support of his angels.Three years ago, Naomi transformed Castiel into a better angel after he had been trying to help the Winchesters.Now, Castiel is ordered to hunt down the Winchesters and stop their growing rebellion.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sarah Blake/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Lost and Found

Cas missed the days when he didn’t know where God was- when the Great Deity was a mystery to him. It was better than knowing he was gone altogether. He should have seen it coming- they all should have. Siding with the dynamic, wild, brother that had such radical ideas, was something the angels had decided together- remain loyal to Lucifer rather than casting out a beloved brother. Castiel had not witnessed their father’s rage, but he knew how fond God was of human beings. He understood, in the end, why he had left. He just missed him, in his own, empty way.

Since there was no one left to watch over humanity as God had, the next logical step surely was to enslave them. Lucifer had decided against killing them, as it would be “too boring, too quick” of a path. He was shaken by God’s departure, as he truly loved his father, but was not able to accept humanity. But when they followed their brother to Earth, they found they could not return to heaven. Uriel suspected it was an angel’s doing, a disloyal mutineer, but most others believed it to be God’s final act- to prevent the faithless children from residing in the home he had built.

And so God’s true children took over his kingdom. 

* * *

  
  


Of course, the angels knew about the Winchester clan. They had managed to eliminate almost all the hunters who had actively tried to fight back and form rebel groups. Not that the humans posed much threat, but precautions had to be taken. If their slaves were to hear of any activity that had injured or killed their masters, the angels would be forced to take violent action. They tried to allow the humans to live normal lives at first, but found that their rebellious spirit was a bit too visible.

The Winchesters were different from other hunters. From what they could tell, the brothers had expanded their group of two to around seven. They weren’t entirely sure because, as much as they hated to admit it, they had a hard time finding them. They had a base camp somewhere, but it was completely untraceable, and they didn’t appear to spend very much time in it. They had managed to destroy an impressive ten monitoring stations, and had stolen an angel blade, which explained why the angels had suddenly started to find dead comrades across the regions where the rebels worked. 

The Chicago-based monitoring station had to be rebuilt, and on their first day back to work, the garrison had a meeting.

Uriel spoke first. He always did. “What all of you must realize is that this Winchester clan has proved threatening to our dominion. While we were rebuilding, I sought out Lucifer, and he agreed that they need to be eliminated quietly.” He emphasized the word by glaring pointedly at Raphael, who was all but sulking across the room. Raphael had caused issues in the past with his temper, which could only be controlled under the release of violence that did not escape the public view. 

“Look,” he said, “I hate them as much as you do for what they did to our brothers and sisters. But they are a sign of hope to the public. Vigilantes, if you will. If we make a spectacle of them, we lose all the obedience we’ve built up these past years. If they simply disappear, the hope remains that they could return, or they assume they’ve moved on. It’s much cleaner on our end.

“Lucifer has told me to assign one seraph to do the job, and I assured him that all of you here are capable. I thought it fitting that the angel who has worked with them in the past continue this mission now. So, Castiel, would you accept this task? To kill the Winchester brothers and all associated?”

All eyes turned to Castiel, the soldiers’ blank faces watching him. He blinked twice. He was surprised Uriel would trust him this time around, especially since he had started sympathizing with them the last time. Trying to get Dean off Lucifer’s trail was a fruitless task, and one that became irrelevant once the angels descended to Earth. Lucifer moved from vessel to vessel now, burning them up quicker and quicker, still unable to secure Sam Winchester. The last he had seen of the boys was just before the descent, as Uriel dragged him back to heaven before Cas became too emotional. He couldn’t remember quite what he felt, but he was sure it had been hindering his abilities. Naomi had helped him overcome such weakness.

“I accept.”

“This guy?” Hester scoffed, turning to Uriel incredulously. “The one who nearly turned human with Anael? This guy is obsessed with those boys- you really think he’s capable of killing them? This is a joke!” She shook her head.

“It is not your place to question me, Hester. Insubordination is unacceptable.”

“Yeah, well so is your so-called faithful soldier. I’m telling you, he would-,” she stopped, watching Castiel slowly take a step toward her.

“Hester, I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I have no lingering feelings over the matter. I will carry out this task as I am appointed.” He fixed her with an icy stare, his wings flexing out behind him for her to see.

“Yes, thank you Hester. I think, perhaps, an appointment with Naomi is in order,” Uriel said dismissively. Angels like Hester came and went as did their surges of emotion. One of the many downsides of living on the Earth was susceptibility to things like doubt and sympathy, which tend to be contagious when living side by side with beings who experience them.

“How soon will they be finished with?” Ramael asked, looking back to Cas.

“As soon as I can manage,” he replied, “By year’s end, if all goes well.” A plan was already forming in his head as he thought back to his days spent analyzing their patterns of behavior and travel. 

“There’s just one thing, Castiel,” Uriel started, a tone of caution in his voice.

“What’s that?” He eyed his superior warily.

“You will need to be human. Temporarily.” He let a small bit of sorrow leak onto his face, knowing how much it would mean to Cas.

Cas was silent for a few moments, eyes darting back and forth as he processed. 

“You will carry your grace with you,” Uriel clarified. “When you have found their base, you can return it to your vessel and contact us. This is necessary; the Winchesters will not let you near them if you are still an angel.”

Castiel let out a breath, his head still swimming with the word  _ human. _ “You want me to… deceive them.” It wasn’t a question. He knew Uriel’s ways, Lucifer’s ways. They were cunning men with a penchant for destruction, choosing difficult but effective methods to cause as much harm as they could. It was unavoidable, but ultimately an order- Cas had tasted free will and decided it was too painful for him to desire.

“Well,” Balthazar bent down to the table to pick up his drink. “Good luck to you, mate, if that’s your plan, but may I suggest one thing?” He smirked at Uriel, who was always irritated when he was reminded that he wasn’t the only high-ranked seraph in the room. “I go with him. Make sure he doesn’t get… lost. Crazy people, those humans. The filth they live in…,” he trailed off, shuddering at the memory of a particular strip club that had since been shut down by the health department (which, unfortunately, he was in charge of).

Uriel nodded. “Fine. But I expect you to behave.”

Balthazar bowed, waving his hand towards the large man. “You won’t see a repeat of ’08, I promise.” He winked and wrapped an arm around Cas, who had managed to draw in his wings. “Well, Cassie, looks like we’ve got shit to do.”

* * *

It was 5 in the morning and all Dean could think was that it had been five years since he had tasted a bagel. He loved breakfast food, most likely because it was a rare thing during his childhood. A flattened granola bar in the backseat, an occasional banana, and more recently, whiskey, was his usual morning routine, and had always been. Back before the so-called apocalypse happened, he took for granted those early mornings at truck-stop breakfast buffets with Sam. Things were so much simpler back then.

But now, Dean would have killed for a fucking bagel. But bread was hard to come by these days, and not very practical either, since it didn’t keep.

Quieting the hunger in his stomach with a swig of last night’s beer on his nightstand, he pulled himself out of bed. His four hours were up- he had other priorities than reasonable amounts of sleep. Sam, on the other hand, had taken to sleeping in for hours, much more capable of resting with his wife at his side.

Sarah Blake had, quite honestly, saved Sam’s life, and Dean loved her like his own sister. They had come across her not too long after the angels came, leading her own camp of rebels through the same area where the brothers were investigating. She was really the reason they joined the rebellion- she led a skilled group that all shared a history of supernatural experiences that realized the truth of the situation. Sam married Sarah a year later, under the same blessing Dean had given him many, many years before. 

And Sarah was having a baby, something that Dean wasn’t too sure about, but since Sam seemed happy about it, he let it be and tried to help them when he could. It still wasn’t the life he wanted for his little brother, but then again, that vision was getting more and more impossible by the day. He knew Sam wanted to leave the rebel camp, go conform and live in quiet quasi-slavery in the suburbs somewhere that hadn’t turned into a warzone. But he knew he would never do it, and that was silently added to Dean’s bag of guilt that he carried on his shoulders every waking hour of the day.

The camp didn’t quite have a kitchen, since food came and went pretty quickly, but they had conceded on an area to meet in the mornings. It was a quiet corner of their underground sanctuary- the only place that let in any natural light. A tiny square grate let in a few beams of sunlight, and if you stood there for a few minutes, you could even feel its warmth. It didn’t feel like a home by any means, but it gave the campers a peak at the world that had come to hate them. 

It was the Harvelles that had actually found the network of underground tunnels and rooms beneath Chicago. Ash had found some blueprints of the city when he was doing research on old gangsters prior to his death. They had probably been used by some big names for money laundering, gambling, and drinking, but the historical value meant nothing to the group as long as it could be lived in which thankfully, it was. It had been a three-month project, but they had managed to smuggle in enough supplies to string up some lights, make a few beds, and put up every warding sigil and spell Sam could think of. It would be almost impossible for the angels to find them, as they used a different exit and entrance almost every time, as the tunnels led up into various abandoned buildings and warehouses. The only issue they had was having to scratch the demon traps open and closed every time Meg showed up with information. She had become an honorary member of the team, relaying as much information about the angels as she could find. Demons were slowly going into hiding, as the angels began hunting them for fun, but Meg was smarter and more clever than most of her kind and could, unlike the brothers had thought at first, take care of herself. 

The entire group of rebels consisted of Sam and Dean, Jo and Ellen, Sarah, and usually a few other hunters that came and went, too skittish to stay in one place too long. Most hunters lived like hermits these days, passing safe locations to each other only by word of mouth. They got along alright- being in tight quarters meant little to no privacy, but when they needed a break from each other, they retreated to their respective “rooms.” 

It was a tolerable way of life. The work they were doing to take down as many angels as they could was more important than being comfortable. Dean’s mantra was that “when this is over,” they could sleep in real beds, eat perishable food, et cetera. He held onto that more for Sam’s benefit than his own.

Still blinking sleep out of his eyes, Dean stumbled into the kitchen, shaking the aches out of his joints. To his surprise, he found that Sam and Sarah had got up before him, and were standing quietly under the sun opening. It had barely risen, but the couple had not turned the kitchen lights on, letting the gray sunshine illuminate their faces. Sam was standing behind his wife, his large hands clasped around the front of her protruding bump as he rested his chin against the top of her head. They both had their eyes closed, sharing something very private in the silence and for a fleeting moment, Dean wanted to cry.

He waited at the door for a few moments, then slowly entered the room, shuffling his feet. He mumbled a ‘morning’ and eyed the food stash resting on the dark wooden table. He sighed.

To live in slavery meant a fairly normal life as long as no one showed any form of resistance. Slaves would work, eat, sleep, and shit in their homes, but had the pleasure of angels patrolling the streets and mandating exactly when and where they would participate in those activities. Some jobs remained the same before and after the apocalypse- hospital staff stayed in the hospitals, teachers kept teaching, farmers worked as hard as ever. But others- the police officers, the military, the priests- were forced back into their homes and put out of practice. There was no need for religious leaders when angels of God walked the earth.

Of course, not many humans knew that God had left. And maybe that was for the best. They were the ones, after all, that had decent food and water.

The Winchester clan got by looting the city of Chicago. Like most large cities in America, life among angels there was too dangerous for most humans to want to stay. Angels were fiercer, more strict, and far more cruel in the city. Much of the city had been abandoned as humans migrated into the suburbs and the countryside. Those who stayed either had no one to go to, or were homeless and had their fair share of abandoned places to hide out. No one worked in the supermarkets anymore- no one that still lived in the city was interested in buying anything.

By now, Dean’s diet consisted mostly of cold canned beans, cold canned green beans, and cold canned tuna.

“We think it’s a girl, Dean,” Sam said quietly, turning towards his brother. Sarah had left the room. 

Dean made his best attempt at a smile. “You guys thinking of names?” He asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

“Mary,” he breathed, looking up through the grate at the sun.

Dean nodded slowly, not knowing what to say. “Well,” he clapped Sam on the shoulder, “What’s for breakfast? Eggs benedict? Denver omelette? Cherry pie?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

In that second, an acorn cap fell through the grate, hardly making a sound as it fell to the floor. Dean rolled his eyes. “I wonder how many tries it took her this time,” he sighed.

“We haven’t seen her in almost a month,” Sam spoke quickly, “You think we’re ok?”

“We can throw her in a trap just to be safe,” Dean shrugged, “But she already knows where we are so if she has turned we’re still screwed.” Dean had grown to trust Meg. Despite their past she had proven herself during the angel invasion. 

Sam matched Dean’s shrug, and reached towards the ceiling to scratch away a piece of the demon ward that was drawn there. Dean bent down and began scratching a new ward into the concrete floor.

Meg, quick and quiet, pulled up the grate with inhuman strength and dropped down into the room. She was sweating and breathing hard, her wild pink hair a tangled mess around her face. Glancing down at the ward Dean was creating, she laughed. “There’s no need for that sweet-cheeks.”

Dean squinted at her, but didn’t stand. “This is the longest you’ve gone without a visit, Meg, what gives?”

She shook her head, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “I’ve been doing a hell of a lot more than you, Dean-O.” She winked at Sam. “How’s the fetus?”

With a loud scratch, Dean completed the trap around Meg. She crossed her arms and turned away from him.

Sam took a step back, drawing from his jacket a flask of holy water. “Just talk, Meg.”

“Fine! Fine! How have you been Meg? How’s life with you? Oh, well I’ve only been following your very best angel friend for the past two weeks. And he’s been kicked out! Completely human! Whatever though, if you need to chain me up like a dog in order for me to come here maybe I won’t be making any more visits.” She was mad now, her pale face growing red with strain.

Jo sauntered casually into the room, looking calm but alert, a gun in her hand. “Some people are trying to sleep, demon.” She yawned. Jo and Meg had never gotten along. None of the clan would ever consider Meg a friend, but normally they could stand her company. Jo however, preferred not to share her presence with a demon. 

“Talk. Meg.” Dean hissed. He scratched the demon trap open at her feet. She seemed sincere, but he felt better having three against one.

She laughed. “I knew you’d come around.” She took a moment to tie her hair up into a tight bun. “Ah, better. Well you heard me. It’s our buddy Castiel. And he’s human.”

________________________________________________________________________

“Prepare yourself.” This was all Uriel had to offer as a warning before he slit Castiel’s throat. He was surprisingly gentle- it was over very quickly.

Castiel closed his eyes, fighting back tears. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. That wouldn’t be healing anytime soon. It was a strange sensation, losing grace. He felt the pain of the wound, but the sucking and pulling feeling of the power leaving him made him feel as if whole organs were falling from his neck, like his heart was leaving its place in his chest. It was paralyzing.

It was for the greater good.

The pain didn’t stop once the grace was gone and bottled away, and it probably wouldn’t for a while. Uriel gave Castiel a moment to get his bearings and turned to Balthazar, still holding his blade.

“Oh, no, surely it will be better if I accompany poor Castiel here with my grace.” He nervously backed into a corner. “You don’t want us to get killed, do you?”

“Is that fear I hear in your voice Balthazar?” Uriel laughed. “You don’t think you can handle a few Winchesters?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you’re healing it right away. Can’t be scarring up my beautiful vessel, now, can we.” He grimaced, shut his eyes, and exposed his neck to Uriel.

Both angel’s graces were contained in opaque pendants and hung around their necks. 

Ever the soldier, Balthazar was silent as he left the station, his shoulders light with the loss of his wide wings. He felt incredibly strange, but mostly he was hungry.

He could sense that Castiel was too, but didn’t bring it up. Hunger was one of the most annoying human qualities. Humans had so many dependencies, their bodies so difficult to care for- finding good food was one of many. 

Luckily Uriel had anticipated this and presented them with a few pieces of fruit and some sort of sandwich, clearly human-made. He left a set of car keys on the table next to the door, nodded solemnly at them, and vanished.

The two former-angels sighed, staring down at the food in front of them, but ate it anyway.

It was quite some time before Balthazar spoke. “You know,” he said, finishing off an apple, “This could be sort of fun. Have you ever been drunk before? Ever had sex? Some of the greatest human experiences.” He laughed. Balthazar had walked among humans over the years, experimenting. Many angels disapproved, but Balthazar was not one to care. He never got himself into any serious trouble but he did tend towards degeneracy at times.

Castiel shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like our mission, Balthazar.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “I’m here to keep an eye on you and help you out, not to be your commander.”

“Let’s just… find them.” Emotions were swirling through Castiel’s head. Feeling them as an angel had been confusing enough, but as a human it made him feel vaguely sick. His back, too, felt strangely light.

It had been three years since Castiel had seen the Winchester boys. It had not ended well.

The boys had seen the signs, could feel that angels were beginning to side with Lucifer, that they might be coming to Earth in large numbers. Other angels teased Castiel, telling him that he had become the Winchester’s pet. And yes, he had helped them. At the time, Castiel thought of them as almost friends.

They asked too much of him.

They asked Castiel to help take down Lucifer. They asked Anael as well.

He didn’t get a chance. Castiel wasn’t sure what would have happened if Naomi hadn’t saved him. She had killed Anael for her disobedience, but Naomi had taken pity on Castiel, saw that he had been manipulated, and saved him. He had spent three years serving under Uriel and was a better angel for it. 

Castiel was sure that the boys felt betrayed, so he was sure getting back with them would be difficult.

With a jolt, Castiel identified an emotion. He was scared.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Come Back

Dean Winchester was close to breaking.

_ For you Dean, I would. _

He hadn’t moved, probably hadn’t breathed the entire time Meg spoke of Cas. 

Human. Driving in a car with Balthazar. Looking miserable. Looking for him.

Dean wasn’t stupid. He had his suspicions about what happened to Cas after that night. His suspicions confirmed with each passing day that Cas didn’t return. Three years. He had accepted reality.

Once Dean confirmed that was all Meg knew, he left the kitchen, thinking only of whiskey. Unfortunately he had a brother that knew him too well.

“Dean,” Sam said softly from the doorway to the bedroom. His eyes trying to look anywhere but the bottle Dean was pulling from.

“I’m fine Sammy,” Dean grunted, setting the bottle down. His hands were gripping his kneecaps, knuckles white. He shut his eyes, allowing himself to breathe, allowing himself to see blue eyes for three seconds. No longer than that. He shivered.

Sam walked carefully towards Dean’s bed as if shattered glass covered the floor. Dean raised the bottle to his lips again.

________________________________________________________________________

_ Three years ago _

“I’m not sure what I am feeling, Dean.” Castiel looked at Dean’s hands. They were not soft, not by any means. They were rough, like they belonged to an older man. Castiel never ceased to marvel at Dean’s hands. Hands that he had felt even in Hell.

Something was hanging in the air between the two of them. They were alone in a motel in Lebanon, Indiana. Warding covered the walls on the inside.

They had just watched Anna die, and Castiel had wept in the Impala as Dean tore down the highway, running for cover. Dean didn’t know angels could cry.

“I know, Cas, I know,” Dean wasn’t sure either. Something big was happening. Uriel had come out of nowhere and stabbed Anna, just like that. Cas had blasted him away and they ran for it.

Castiel was crying again. 

Dean couldn’t stop himself. Wrestling with his insides, pushing down hungry thoughts, he put an arm around the angel’s shoulders. Cas broke and lunged into Dean’s touch, burying his head in Dean’s chest.

Dean’s heart was pounding, his stomach warm.  _ Don’t be a dumbass, Dean, he just lost his sister. _

They sat in silence for a long time. Dean silently prayed that Sam wouldn’t be back anytime soon.

Eventually Castiel sat back up, composing himself. The buzz in the air remained.

Dean took a chance. “I didn’t know angels could cry… could feel…,” he trailed off, unsure of himself.

Castiel returned to looking at Dean’s hands. “I feel different, Dean. And it’s not just sadness, it’s joy, and interest, and need.” He shook his head.

He couldn’t take it any longer. He reached out, needing to feel those hands.

Surprisingly, Dean’s hands moved to meet his. Castiel shivered again, blue eyes meeting green, both mirror images of tense wonder.

Cas knew Dean wasn’t ready to speak about this quite yet. But Cas, urged by the buzzing, knew he might be ready to listen.

“It’s because of you, Dean,” he whispered. “This path I am on, these feelings.” He swallowed hard. “I know you’re confused. I am, as well. I-, I-,” his breaths were coming quicker. Dean was blinking, eyelashes fluttering, eyes steady on Cas’s face. “I need-, I need-,” he couldn’t finish. It was too big, too much to put into words. Cas was too new at this.

But Dean understood. He wouldn’t speak, not yet, but he knew.

“God Cas,” he breathed. “What the hell is going on.” It wasn’t a question. It was a prayer.

Neither of them quite realized how close their faces had come. Their foreheads touched.

Cas let out a wild sound- somewhere between a whimper and a moan, a sound all wrapped up in longing and pain that nearly stopped Dean’s heart. He couldn’t take it.

Dean could taste Castiel’s sweet breath and he kissed him. The angel was more human than most people Dean had met, and he needed him.

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, but they couldn’t get enough of each other. Dean cupped Cas’s face with one hand, the other sliding down his back where his wings might be. He felt the wetness where tears had been and kissed them away.

Not sure whose decision it had been, they found themselves horizontal on the bed, Dean’s strong arms holding himself above Cas. He kissed the angel as easy as breathing.

Cas couldn’t keep his eyes shut. All he wanted to see was Dean.

It could have been hours or years.

A cell phone rang once. Twice. 

“Fuck,” Dean swore, pulling up and squeezing his eyes shut. He glanced at the bedside table. “Sam.”

“Dean, I-,” but Castiel wasn’t sure what to say. He laced his hand through Dean’s, amazed at the feeling. His lips felt bruised and warm. Dean raised their hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against the back of Cas’s fingers.

“Sam?” he answered the phone, not wanting to leave Sam hanging even now.

“Remove the warding or your brother dies.” Dean’s heart sunk deep into his stomach. It was a woman’s voice. Not Sam.

“What do you want,” he growled, sitting up straight, still clutching Cas’s hand.

“For you to remove the warding.” He heard a man gasp in the background, heard the beating of flesh on flesh. Sam. 

Dean swore again and threw down the phone.

“That was Naomi,” Castiel’s voice sounded choked. 

“Cas, Sam-”

“Let them in,” Cas whispered.

Dean took a knife to the sigils.

She appeared in the room in seconds, another angel right behind her, a blade to his beaten brother’s throat.

“You really should stop letting your brother out of your sight, Dean,” she said, eyes darting between him and Cas. Cas’s angel blade fell from his trench coat sleeve into his hand. Naomi raised an eyebrow. “Wow you really have this one well trained too. Impressive.” She laughed, casually pushing Castiel across the room with a wave of her hand. His body crashed against the wall.

“Shut the hell up and let Sam go,” Dean growled, pulling out his knife, knees bent into a fighting stance.

She pretended to consider this for a moment. “I’ll give you Sam if you give me your pet over there.” She was prepared for Dean’s lunge with the knife, and sent him careening towards the opposite wall of the small room, holding him there. 

Dean let out a weak laugh. “Well I can’t give him to you if you’re holding me up here, you bitch.”

As if on cue, Sam landed a perfect hit on his captor and Cas flew across the room at Naomi. Dean watched helplessly as Cas landed one, two, three punches on Naomi but couldn’t quite get his blade in place. Meanwhile Sam was quickly overpowered, taking a concussive blow to the head and falling to the floor. In one steady motion, Naomi pinned Cas to the wall next to Dean.

“Now,” she said, spitting blood from her mouth, “Let’s play nicely.” She shook her hands into fists and Dean watched as she healed herself quickly. “Now Dean, we know you can’t live without your brother in one piece. I hate to think of the lengths you’d have to go to bringing Sam back from the dead again. You might not get so lucky next time.”

Sam was nearly unconscious, slumped against the A/C unit underneath the single window. 

“I’ll come, Naomi,” Castiel said, breathing hard and clearly hurt, but his voice came out strong.

“Cas, no-”

“Excellent.” Naomi released them both. “Heaven has work for you.”

“Cas,” Dean hissed at him, “You don’t have to do this. There’s always another way.”

“Dean.”

“You really think you could get your pet to kill for you, Dean? That is a little unbelievable. Even by your standards.” Naomi sneered at him.

Castiel turned to face Dean, a few tears falling again. How many tears could an angel shed? “For you Dean, I would,” he whispered. A gust of wind whipped through the tiny room. Dread pooled in Dean’s stomach. Sam stared across the room, in too much pain to do much but watch. A bright light was coming from Naomi- it was time to go.

Castiel grabbed Dean’s face roughly, eyes wild. He kissed him desperately once more, the blood on his face smearing to Dean’s cheeks. Dean grunted, wanting to speak but found no words.

Then he was gone.

________________________________________________________________________

_ Present Day _

Three years felt like no time at all to an angel, but Castiel understood that it would feel long to a human. Hell, he had only been human for a week and it had dragged unusually. Never had he felt so trapped by time. 

He had grown more comfortable with Balthazar however, which was a welcome change. The two had spent their time driving down empty streets and raiding food from convenience stores, sometimes speaking of the past, sometimes enjoying silence. They lamented about human annoyances- needing to sleep, digestion, and growing sore from sitting in a car all day.

Sometime during their third week without grace, Balthazar informed Castiel that a girl was following them. They were driving away from a dingy liquor store- Balthazar had been in need of some tequila- and he spotted a pink haired girl dash around a corner. Several hours later when they stopped for food, he saw her again, across the street attempting to look casual.

“There she is!” He hissed at Cas, pointing at her through the convenience store window. Cas glanced up, not expecting much, but quickly changed his mind when he saw who it was.

He grinned, almost laughing. Their way to the Winchesters had presented itself easily. “That’s Meg, Balthazar.” He could barely contain his excitement. “The Winchester’s demon pet.”

The former-angels did what they do best- strategizing. They formed a plan to trap the demon at nightfall- they were going to cause a “drunk” ruckus on a dirty street, sure Meg would investigate that. They would traipse down the alleyway as she followed, running right into a demon trap scratched into the dark ground.

Of course, they had underestimated the demon. Maybe they were overconfident with their first real lead or maybe they had just let a bit too much tequila slide into their mouths as they pretended to be intoxicated. No sooner had they begun their jaunt down the alleyway before they met Meg, her arms crossed and knife out. The men stopped abruptly, the almost comical situation souring and the clouds in their heads dissipated. “You guys lose your grace and really become idiots, huh,” She mused, eyeing their frozen forms. “What do you want?”

Castiel spoke first, quickly. “Meg, please, we’re just looking for the boys.” He twisted his face into something that was passably sincere.

“Like hell you are,” she spat. 

Castiel shook his head slightly at Balthazar, silently letting him know that he would be doing the talking. “We were cast out. Grace stolen. We don’t know where else to go.” He tried to believe his words, showing his empty palms to the demon.

She shook her head. “You don’t know what you just walked into, boys.”

Everything went black.

________________________________________________________________________

Sam had allowed Dean a two-day bender after the news of Castiel’s humanity came from Meg. After that, he promised himself, they would make a plan. 

Sam couldn’t even begin to describe how difficult Dean could be when it came to talking about Cas. Watching Cas kiss his brother had been… well under different circumstances Sam would have probably been relieved. He still felt that in a way, since he thought it might allow Dean to come to terms with his feelings, but since it had ended so disastrously, it had really caused nothing but pain. Dean had completely shut down immediately after Cas left, caring only for Sam and how injured he was. He insisted they continue on as normal- trying to hunt Lucifer if they could, but keeping up with cases and hunting and killing. 

Sam had tried. He really had. He had attempted to discuss Castiel with Dean a total of five times over the past three years. The first time, Dean was so drunk he was vomiting into their toilet at a Motel 6 in bumfuck nowhere, Missouri. Sam regretted it, and he doubted that Dean even remembered. He had told Sam to go fuck himself, among other things, but when Sam had left him alone, he could hear Dean crying.

The times after that, Dean had simply said “I don’t want to talk about it” or “Not now, Sammy.” 

Sam had confided in Sarah about it, thinking he was going to go crazy if he didn’t talk to someone. She had been gentle with him, stroking his back slowly as he let it all out. “Sam, your brother needs you. But don’t force it. He’ll talk when he’s ready.” She was right, of course. But Sam wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready. 

But Sam loved Dean. So he bit his lip and did all he could to keep Dean distracted and away from alcohol poisoning. 

Without Sarah, Sam thought that he may have fallen apart. She had been so patient, so kind, and fierce in her love. She was patient with Dean as well, getting him to laugh at times, inviting him to tell stories, making sure he ate enough.

Sure, Dean  _ seemed _ fine these days. He was tough. But Sam knew better than to think Meg’s news wouldn’t fuck him up for a few days. He tried to give Dean as much space as he could, but the rest of the crew was almost as worried, and made Sam check on him a few times a day. Around the end of the second day, they got to talking.

“What are you thinking, Sammy?”

Sam paused, cautious. “I’m thinking that you have better things to do than sit in here and sharpen your knives.” It was a good enough answer for Dean, who chuckled.

“I know, I know. I’m good now, really.” He shrugged. “Let’s go get him.”

They decided they had to figure out what was going on, so they met with Meg again. They met with their friends who had been very concerned about bringing even former angels into their hide-out. The two traveling hunters staying with them now- Ben and Thomas- decided it was time they moved on, and Sam couldn’t blame them. Jo and Ellen, ever dedicated, set up a space for the incoming prisoners.

It was almost easy, now that Castiel and Balthazar were human. Meg, still a demon, was smart enough to figure out what they were up to and lead them right into a trap, Sam and Jo quickly knocking out the pair of them in one blow. Thankful for the cover of darkness, they brought the two men into their makeshift prison cells. 

Dean had agreed it was probably for the best to let Sam and Jo bring them in, but refused to be benched for interrogation. So Sam sat in a room with Cas, Dean sat with Balthazar. The brothers went to work, first testing to determine that they were in fact human, then rousing them from unconsciousness. 

Balthazar coughed up a bit of blood, eyes squinting in the dim light at Dean. “Ah, so you picked me. I’m flattered. How’s my favorite Winchester?”

Dean punched him in the stomach. 

Balthazar gagged and coughed, the wind knocked out of him. “Fuck, I hate being human,” he moaned. “Can I try again?”

“You are going to tell me exactly what I need.” Dean said darkly, his voice oddly calm. “Now.”

Balthazar sighed. “Dean, please. I’m not here to fight.” His wrists burned against the rope that held them together, twisted behind his back in the most uncomfortable way. “We’re refugees.”

“Where’s your mojo?” Dean grunted.

Balthazar began to talk faster, his breath coming back to him. “They took it. The angels. They kicked us out.” He coughed again, still tasting blood. “Castiel and I. We were starting to sympathize with you.”

Dean laughed, and suddenly lunged towards Balthazar, his stolen angel blade jabbing into his throat. 

“Please! Please! I swear! They- they wouldn’t kill us- said it was a waste since we’re all locked out of heaven anyway so they punished us, took our grace and all.” His eyes were wild and terrified, a look that Dean was not used to seeing on angels.

Dean couldn’t kill him, not yet.

“When you come up with a better story, let me know,” he said, and turned to leave him in the dark, cold room. 

“Wait!” Balthazar called, desperate to get Dean’s mind open just a little. “It was Castiel’s idea. To find you, that is. But he convinced me. Said you could stop this. Find God. Please, you have to believe me.” 

Dean heard, but did not acknowledge him. He froze for a moment at the doorway, eyes squeezed shut, allowing himself another memory of blue eyes, then stepped away, slamming and locking the door behind him.

_____________________________________

Sam knew, even after all this time, he wouldn’t be able to torture Cas. Sure, there was bitterness and questions and doubt about why Cas hadn’t returned to them for three years, but the angel, well, human now, had indeed been someone he considered a friend. 

On one hand, Castiel was an angel, and had only known Sam and Dean for a short time. Was it really so impossible that he could have gone back to being a regular old loyal angel? Sam wasn’t sure. In his heart he felt that there was no way Cas would have gone back and supported Lucifer. But after all this time, it seemed like he had done just that.

Sam gently shook Castiel awake. He raised his head slowly, eyes meeting Sam’s. “Hello,” he tried, trying to shake himself out of the fog he was in, head pounding painfully. “I underestimated Meg.” He shook his head, sighing.

“Uh, hi Cas,” Sam said, not quite expecting that opening. “It’s been a while.” He scratched the back of his head, his long hair not quite as well kept as it used to be.

“It has,” Cas mused. “And I’m in an interesting situation.” He paused, steadying his breath, planning the false story he was about to lay out. “Where’s Dean? I’m sure he’d want to hear this.” He kept his face and posture to appear concerned.

Sam’s eyes searched Cas’s for a hint of emotion. Something seemed off. “He’s with Balthazar. I mean, I’ll get him if you really need him, but you should probably give me some answers first.”

Cas shrugged. “I’ll tell you everything, Sam, I am not here to fight you. We are on the same side now.”

Sam was apprehensive about that.

“Ask away.”

Sam decided he would start with the present, and could go back to the past in due time. “Why are you human? Why were you looking for us?”

Cas sighed. “Ah yes, my grace is gone. It has not been very pleasant. The angel Uriel took it from me to punish me for sympathizing with humanity.” He frowned, missing the powerful burn of grace inside him fiercely, knowing if that was running through him he wouldn’t have to sit tied up with fraying ropes. “I didn’t know where else to go, neither did Balthazar. When we saw Meg, we thought if we trapped her we could find you. Obviously it happened the other way around but still, we’re here.” Even though things hadn’t gone exactly as planned, it was true. He was glad they had made it to the Winchesters, one way or another. He was thankful Sam hadn’t found his grace, tucked away and sewn into the seams of his trench coat. 

Sam nodded, taking in the story. “So why are you still alive if you disobeyed the angels?”

Cas nodded. “I was surprised about that too. I think that the angels see no point in killing each other now that heaven is closed. Almighty though they are, they do not like to waste lives. They do not kill very many, they just like power over others in life.” He shrugged. “Last time I sympathized with you, I repented, they took me back and helped me. This time they had no interest in trying again.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean you repented?” In his mind he replayed the scene from three years ago he thought about so often.

“Well when I saw Anael killed it was too much. I went to Naomi and she helped me get back in heaven’s good graces. But that’s besides the point. The angels are wrong in enslaving you. Lucifer is wrong. And I’m sorry it took me so long to come back to you.” Castiel did look very sincere, and very upset. 

Now Sam knew something was really wrong. That wasn’t how it happened at all. Every word out of his mouth could have been a lie. He had to talk to Dean. “I’ll be back,” he muttered to Cas, backing out of the room and locking the door behind him.

He found Dean in the makeshift kitchen, drinking. At least it was beer.

Dean looked at Sam like his world was falling apart. “How is he?”

Sam began to pace, not sure where to begin. “He’s…. Dean, I don’t know. Something’s wrong.”

“Well, obviously.”

The two gave a full report of their conversations, Dean holding his breath for most of Sam’s. 

“What do we know about Naomi?” Dean asked, trying to remain calm. 

“Uh…,” Sam thought hard, thinking back. “Well she kidnapped me. Tortured me. Then Cas sacrificed himself for me. Classic.” Reliving those memories was all but pleasant.

“So basically we know as much about her as any other angel. Great.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna have to beat the shit out of Balthazar.”

“Dean,” Sam shook his head, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Come on. He’s human. Just talk to him.”

Dean brought the blade with him anyway.

______________________________________

Balthazar was, however, willing to discuss Naomi without violence. 

“She works directly for Lucifer now, rehabilitating angels that get temperamental or doubtful. Like a human therapist.” Balthazar shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

“Well we had a real pleasant chat with her ‘round three years ago,” Dean turned his back to Balthazar, unwilling to give any emotion away.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course. When Castiel came back.”

“So when you say rehabilitation,” Dean cleared his throat, composing himself and turning around again to face Balthazar, angel blade still in hand but not at the ready. “What are you referring to.”

Balthazar raised his eyebrows. “Well I may have been rehabilitated a time or two,” he chuckled. “But it’s top secret. Even if you go through it, you forget after. They think it’s better that way- you’re just ‘cured’ so to speak and get on with life.”

Dean’s stomach felt like it was full of rocks. But he felt strangely hopeful. If Cas thought he was telling the truth, maybe there wasn’t anything to be mad about. Maybe this Naomi person had brainwashed him. “So you’re saying she can mess with people’s- angel’s memories?”

Balthazar nodded, confused. 

_______________________________

“I think we should get some sleep.” And Sam desperately wanted that. He had poked his head into his and Sarah’s bedroom an hour ago and she looked so peaceful.

Dean nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

“Look,” Sam said, “I’m not ready to start trusting them either. Figuring out Cas… it might take time. I’m not sure.”

“They might just be lying,” Dean hissed. “They were sent here for us.”

“Then why are they human, Dean? Even for angels that’s low.”

Dean grunted and went for the door, knowing he could probably get in one REM cycle before the sun rose. He stopped, letting out a long shuddering breath. “Sam, I…,” he started, knowing he had never confided in his brother about  _ this, _ even though he had tried. “Me and Cas…, that stuff…,” he ran a hand over his face. “He’s not the same.”

Sam shook his head. “He doesn’t seem like our Cas.”


End file.
